


The Princess Who Remembered Her Name: An Alderaani Faerie Tale

by glorious_clio



Series: Star Wars is a Faerie Tale [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Slight Rogue One Spoilers, You've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Once upon a time, there was a kind and clever and courageous Princess," Bail begins his favorite story, and Leia is excited to share this with him.  She goes through her life with the story in her mind, and tries not to read too much into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Princess Who Remembered Her Name: An Alderaani Faerie Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Princess Who Remembered Her Name](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/178762) by glorious clio. 
  * Inspired by [Instructions](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/178765) by Neil Gaiman. 
  * Inspired by [The Princess Who Remembered Her Name](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/251899) by glorious clio. 



> First of all, shout out to lalalalalawhy for her excellent beta skills! 
> 
> The poetry in the story comes from a Neil Gaiman poem called "Instructions" which you could generously say I "remixed." I took a lot of inspiration from that poem over the years, and I highly recommend you read it. If you like Gaiman and poetry, I mean. 
> 
> I also created a playlist that you're welcome to listen to while you read, and you can find that here: http://8tracks.com/glorious-clio/the-princess-who-remembered-her-name-an-alderaani-faerie-tale

_ _

_Once upon a time, there was a kind and clever and courageous Princess.  Her parents raised her with love and with wisdom, and they cherished her. The Princess could feel their love for her as if it were sunshine on her face.  Her teachers were firm, but they were also knowledgeable of the world the Princess would one day be expected to rule, and so she respected them. The Princess was also very curious, and sought wisdom wherever she could find it.  She followed the maids and servants about the castle, begging for stories about their lives.  She gamely followed gardeners throughout the castle grounds, learning about how to make things grow and flourish, digging in the dirt and returning to her chambers with her dresses muddied.  The Princess was more of a hindrance than a help in the kitchen, but the process and chemistry of the cooks fascinated her, even if she dropped eggshells in bowls when she cracked them, or forgot key steps to even the simplest recipes.  One cannot be good at everything, she supposed.  But the artistry of the chefs opened her eyes with wonder._

_Her planet was simple, full of farmers and merchants.  People were good and strong and kind. People swam and took walks and hiked beautiful mountains.  They created wonderful art and music.  It was nothing short of ideal, with no hunger, orphans loved and taken in, and the needs of their people were met, ensured by the long line of Queens._

_Though she lived in a peaceful land, the time was not peaceful, so the young Princess was brought to military knowledge as well, though it left a coppery taste in her mouth.  But if the Princess was to someday ascend to her mother’s throne, she knew that she would need this kind of knowledge as well.  When she learned the word assassin, her mother gave her a little dagger with a silver hilt. Her father made sure she knew how to use it._

_And the Princess learned her lessons well._

 

 

Leia Amidala Organa, the _Dauphine_ to the House of Organa, the planetary queens of Alderaan, shivered with anticipation and cuddled closer to her beloved father.  As Bail Antilles Organa read to his daughter, her mind burst with questions, but she tucked them back into her mind for now. This was _special_ , he was reading from a _book_ , not a datapad.  The book was a heavy tome that rested gently on his knees. It was bound in simple leather, the heavy parchment was edged with gold, and the ink wasn’t true black, but rather, faded brown in places.There were small illustrations, drawn quickly, colors muddied. When he first opened it in her bed, she sneezed.

Leia had been caught more than once in her father’s study, her fingers on the spines of the old books.  She was allowed in the Castle’s small library as often as she wished (and unlimited access to her datapad full of her lessons and instructions), but her parents’ studies were different.  The books were so much older in those rooms, so much more rare and fragile.  And some of them were tucked in secret places, they seemed to whisper quietly of things that young Leia was only beginning to hear now that she is seven and a half, things that she was instructed to keep in a locked room in her mind.  

She visualized that dungeon for a moment, then let it fade again, letting her father’s voice wash over her like a wave.  

This was not a secret book, it was a book of old Alderaani faerie tales.  She was familiar with some of them, her nurses and her aunts told them to her.  Her Naboo teachers have told her a few faerie tales from their planet, and she liked to note where they were similar and where they were different.  

But this one she had never heard before, and father said that it is his _favorite_.  

One minute into the tale, she decided it was her favorite as well.  

 

 

_The Princess had no siblings to call her own, though she was blessed with a large family, and her beloved grandmother was still alive. The Princess loved nothing more than to pass a day with the mother of her father, learning all about how life had been when she was a girl, and the grandmother, a bent crone with flashing eyes and a reputation for being a witch, was happy to pass her stories to her only granddaughter._

_‘My child,” her grandmother said, ‘times never remain the same. Everything changes, for if nothing were to ever change, we would never live.  The death of the phoenix bird leads to a new one to be formed from his ashes.  Sometimes the gardener must prune a bush to allow new branches to grow.  There is nothing you can do to stop this growth, and if you are able to adapt to these changes, you will be a very wise Queen indeed.’_

_The grandmother looked at the child and saw before her the woman she would become. She saw great joy but also great pain, and resolved to do her best to teach the child what she would need._

_‘Yes grandmother,’ the girl would reply. ‘But how do I learn this? It is not in any book I have ever read, and while I have witnessed gardeners in their work, and while I have heard your words, I do not know if I understand.’_

_And the grandmother would gently tug her granddaughter’s braids, playful but serious, too. ‘The wisdom of your question reveals that you are beginning to understand what you do not understand. Only that knowledge, that one does not know everything, will one day make way for more knowledge to change you.’  And she smiled at the girl.  ‘One day you will go out into the world, and you will see what there is to see, and know what you can know, no more than that. And you will come home again to find that home is as it was, but you are a different person than when you have left it.’_

_The Princess was even more confused after these conversations, but they left within her the seed of understanding, and she did her best to cultivate it._

_But her Grandmother gave her more practical advice, too._

_‘Remember your name._  
_Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found._  
_Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped_  
_to help you in their turn._  
_Trust dreams.  
Trust your heart, and trust your story._

 _‘When you come back, return the way you came._  
_Favors will be returned, debts be repaid._  
_Do not forget your manners._  
_Do not look back._  
_Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall)._  
_Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).  
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur)._

 _‘When you reach the little house, the place your_  
_journey started,_  
_you will recognize it, although it will seem_  
_much smaller than you remember._  
_Walk up the path, and through the garden gate_  
_you never saw before but once.  
And then go home. Or make a home.’_

 

 

All told, though, Leia was a precocious child, who enjoyed breaking things apart, seeing how they worked, and putting them back together again. She was clever and good (mostly), and picked up her lessons as soon as they were laid out for her.  But she had strange dreams of a desert world and a little boy with sandy hair and blue eyes.  She didn’t really talk about him, and the dreams would be nothing more exciting than swapping stories or racing speeders across foreign dunes.  He was hers, and hers alone.

Nearly every moment of her day was scheduled, and there wasn’t much room for play time, except when her father’s family came to visit. Wedge Antilles was her cousin on this side, and the Antilleses weren’t nearly as stuffy as the Organas.  He was noble born too, but though his family sometimes brushed the ruling house of Alderaan, he was unimpressed by the trappings of power and preferred to think of a future where he would follow in his father’s military footsteps.  

Best of all, Wedge never bat an eye when Leia followed him into hangar bays to dig through engines and bridges of starships.  And really, he’d rather let her tag along then have to hang around in court looking “fancy” or whatever.  

She might be in for it later with her aunts, but she could never bring herself to care when Wedge handed her a hydrospanner.  

“Won’t you get in trouble?” he asked her once when she was eight.

She grinned. “Only if we don’t manage to put the pieces back together again.”

She’d taken apart so many droids and datapads and electronics, but had been able to put everything back together with about an 87% success rate at this point in her life, and Bail didn’t usually care as long as her pure white dresses don’t get too covered in engine grease.  She liked using the blowtorch best of all, the heat of it as she welded metal together, the heavy mask protecting her face. It was weird and cool and made her feel powerful.  Wedge favored a drill, which she also taught herself to be an expert in.  

It was flying that got her and Wedge in the most trouble, swiping a couple of speeders and slipping her bodyguards one day when they were nine years old. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; they were having fun, daring each other into recklessness with no thought for any consequence.

Wedge was whooping and calling out orders that she mostly ignored, given that she outranked him, and she suspected he didn’t know any more than she did, even if his father had fought in the Clone Wars.  Instead, she concentrated on how it felt to actually fly - the weightlessness she felt when going into a controlled turn or the wind in her face, and her hair coming loose.  If she calmed her mind, the engine almost told her what to do, when to brake, when to accelerate, how to balance in particularly tricky gusts of wind.  It was so different from the sensation of the sand speeders in the fading memories of dreams.  The lush meadows of Alderaan flashed by her in shocks of green, and she fell in love with the sensation of the speeder in her control.

And then they were caught and all but dragged back to her mother’s castle in disgrace.

Captain/Uncle Antilles, Father, and Mother all lit into the pair of troublemakers. Leia had never been so ashamed after being told many times that she could have been _killed_ and then where would Alderaan be?  

Later, after she had shed her guilty tears alone in her chamber, Mother promised both her and Wedge _proper_ flying lessons, where Uncle/Captain Antilles would be in charge and neither would be killed.  

At a stroke, her shame turned into delight.

 

 

_The little Princess had a close friend, though no one knew of her. She was the Princess’s secret friend, and she went to visit her often.  Once or twice a week, after her governess had tucked her in, the Princess would dress hurriedly, take her little dagger, and sneak down to the beach underneath the cliff of her castle, where a mermaid would wait there for her.  She was a lovely thing with white hair and a silver tail with orange markings.  She told the Princess about life in the sea and how difficult and beautiful it was, about the sea monsters and the tides and the treasures she can find.  But mostly she told the Princess of the Stars._

_The Princess impatiently longed to journey to the Stars, when her parents would someday take her on diplomatic visits. The Princess could cite many traditions and facts about many systems, and had even met a few diplomats that came to her mother’s castle. However the mermaid taught her not of the political realities, but of the secrets and the stories the Stars hid.  “Your future is up there, Princess,” the mermaid told her, but she would not tell the Princess what kind of future it might be.  Instead she painted pictures of great warriors and leaders and foolish people who have tried to trick the gods and ended up imprisoned in the fires of the celestial bodies. She told of magic flowers and totems. She told of twins who pledged to protect each other, sharing immortality between them. She spoke of couples who shared true love but were destined to be apart.  The Princess shivered when she heard those stories, and wondered what she might do to deserve a spot in the heavens. She hoped she would be brave._

_In return, she told the mermaid of her own life.  And the mermaid smiled at the little girl’s wisdom and kindness._

_One night, when the Princess went to visit the mermaid, she found her friend was crying, but would not say why. The Princess suspected she saw something in the Stars, and pulled out her hankie to dry away the mermaid’s tears, silver on her cheeks.  When the Princess pulled the hankie away she found that the tears had dried into a pearl, perfectly round and shining._

_The mermaid smiled at the Princess and told her that kindness is a gift and offered a reminder:_

_‘if any creature tells you that it hungers,_  
_feed it._  
_If it tells you that it is dirty,_  
_clean it._  
_If it cries to you that it hurts,_  
_if you can,  
ease its pain.’_

_It was the last time she saw the mermaid.  Though the Princess would still find occasion to sneak down to the beach, the mermaid never returned.  The Princess had the pearl threaded on a delicate gold chain that she wore as a necklace and never took off._

 

 

Leia had known Winter Celchu her entire life; her mother was an aide to Bail in the Senate, but when her parents were killed (whispers, so many whispers, rumors to be locked up in that same dungeon in her mind), Winter was adopted by the Queen and her husband (so generous of them).  

She made Leia uncomfortable. The young _Dauphine_ knew well the rules of being a Princess, but for her first weeks in Breha’s castle, Winter was not expected to do anything.  She remained in her chambers, and Leia, going through the motions of her own schedule, was incredibly distracted by the grief that circulated through her home.  

Winter didn’t go to lessons, or meals, or public events, or even courtly functions.  

It wasn’t jealousy that drove Leia to the brink, but the unspeakable _sadness_. Leia could not handle the misery of anyone, she was highly empathetic and compassionate and she wanted to help her friend-turned-sister.  

“Leave her alone,” cautioned her father.  “She takes all her meals, and we are getting her the help she needs.”

“She’s dealing with her loss,” her mother said. “She doesn’t need your help to do that, we have a therapist with her.”

 _Bantha-shit_ , Leia thought, rebelliously.  If Winter truly was a part of this family now, then Leia was her sister, and she had to try and help.  

So in the middle of the night, Leia snuck through the servants’ passages to the kitchens, then back up through what she knew was Winter’s chamber.  Really, all she had to do was follow the strongest tendrils of melancholy through the corridors.  

She knocked firmly on the hidden door, calling softly, “Winter?”

There was sniffling, and then a padding to the door. It didn’t open though, not at first.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Leia. I brought snacks....”  

More sniffling, and then Winter inched the door open.  

“I have snacks,” Winter said.

It was probably true. All her life Leia had been left with sweet cakes or cookies at her bedside in case she woke up feeling peckish.  Surely the same courtesy was extended to everyone in her mother’s castle.

Leia shrugged.  “But not enough for both of us.”

She tried not to stare at Winter’s thin, blotchy face, her pure white hair was in a loose braid, but it was matted and limp.  

They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. Winter was still; Leia shifted her weight between her feet.  

“I know you’re sad,” Leia began awkwardly, “and I don’t know... I mean, I’m sure nothing can fix it, not even a new shiny family or a fancy title, or even a new sister, but I’d like to try and help.  I’m pretty good at fixing things that involve a blow-torch or a wrench, but feelings are harder.  I know that.” She was rambling, but Winter didn’t stop her. “I guess what I’m saying is I’d like to try and help you carry your weight, if you’ll let me.”  

Winter opened the hidden door a little wider and Leia slipped through.  She took a spare blanket and spread it in front of the dying embers of Winter’s fireplace.  With grace born of practice, she laid out the things she had brought for tea, (silver tea things, not the glass or fine china) the savory little tarts, the fruit and cheese.  She stoked the fire and heated the water and Winter sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for the tea to finish steeping.  

Leia served, which should have been considered a great honor, but she and Winter were sisters now.  

They drank their tea and nibbled their treats in silence.  Winter cried a little more, Leia combed out her matted hair for her, one hundred strokes, and then a hundred more for good measure.

The next morning they were found by Winter’s new governess, curled up back to back, their hair mixing, pure white and dark dark brown.  

Winter still grieved, and Leia helped her, even if it was just to hold her hand.  

Their bond was forged that morning and became unbreakable after less than a year.  

 

 

_When the Princess was nearing her age of majority, she began taking more and more responsibilities in her Mother’s Queendom.  More and more often, this meant meeting with ministers and advisors, scores of wise women and men, who all said the same thing: We are a planet of peace, and if we remain peaceful, war will not come to us._

_While the Princess felt that her planet should remain kind and peaceful, she also heeded her grandmother’s words.  War was indeed terrible, but war meant change.  And change would come; nothing could stop it._

_And so, with her mother’s permission and her father’s blessing, the Princess went out into the world, quietly and stealthily, and began to explore other planets, meeting other warriors and politicians, learning ways of war and battle._

_She complained of the coppery taste in her mouth to her wise grandmother._

_“My child, that taste will never disappear, though if it does, I am afraid that means you have learned to like the taste of blood. I would never ask for such a curse on your head.”_

_“It hurts my heart, Grandmother, and I worry so for my parents when I am gone.”_

_And her sweet, hunched grandmother repeated the words that the Princess had memorized:_

_‘Remember your name._  
_Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found._  
_Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped_  
_to help you in their turn._  
_Trust dreams.  
Trust your heart, and trust your story.’_

_And on this occasion, she slipped out of the dark black cloak she wore and draped it over the shoulders of her beloved granddaughter._

_‘This cloak is the color of darkness, and will keep you dry and warm, even when the elements conspire against you.’_

_‘Grandmother, I cannot take this from you.’_

_‘It will protect you, my child. Such powerful magic flows through this cloak, magic passed down from many more grandmothers than I can list for you now.” She seemed heavier without the cloak, and the Princess worried, even if her grandmother seemed determined._

_Obediently, the Princess drew her grandmother’s cloak more tightly around her throat and went on her next mission with good grace and high hopes._

 

 

She was fifteen and with her father on Coruscant. It was not her first visit to the capital planet, but her first visit as his legitimate aide (and spy). There was a vote and his other aides were scurrying around, and Leia was messing with her datapad, reading up on the history of the Galactic Senate, trying to figure out if there was anyone new they could approach, to open a channel of communication, to extend a hand of friendship.  He was half distracted, running through the speech he was planning on giving later when Leia demanded his attention.  

He needed to get this done, but she didn’t normally interrupt his work, so this was _important._

And she held up her datapad which was displaying a hologram of Padme Amidala, mid passionate speech.  

“Are we related to her?” she asked.  After all, she grew up on a world where names are matrilineal, and with a sprawling family, and even tutors from Naboo, she was sure it was a possibility. At the very least, it was a legitimate question.

But that didn’t stop the blood from running hot and then cold in Bail’s veins.  

He skirted her question.  “She was my friend, Leia. You are named for her.”

“Oh,” she said, tracing her fingers over the face of Padme Naberrie Amidala. She couldn' put her finger on it, but this name, _Amidala_ felt important, a thread connecting the two of them. She was reminded of someone, but in her mind the thought was too bright to look at directly and she couldn’t figure out who. “Can you tell me about her?”

“What does your datapad say?”

“Not much,” Leia said.  She was looking at the official record, and it wasn’t easy to find, it was buried and buried and buried, which is odd for a woman who was Queen and served as Senator during the Clone Wars. Leia stumbled on it by accident. It said she had died at the hands of General Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was listed as a traitor to the Empire (but who Bail considered a hero).

“I can tell you a bit more when we get home,” Bail said.  “You know how busy I am on Coruscant.”

Those words would offend another person, but Leia knew it was a code.  Without him saying it, she knew it was one of those things that she had to lock in the dungeon of her mind, and certainly not safe enough to talk about when there were so many ears around to listen.  

“Yes, Father.” She replied in Alderaani, making it clear to her father that she knew this conversation was meant for home. Especially if it involved General Kenobi.  

 

 

_Starlight fell on her hair as they made their way back to her mother’s Queendom and the Stars seemed to whisper to her. The whispers didn’t make sense; they sounded like snatches of stories, warnings, change._

_The Princess pulled her cloak tightly around her, then she placed one hand on the pearl on her necklace, the other on the hilt of her little dagger.  She knew the weight of light is marginal, that fluctuations in Starlight would not feel any heavier or lighter on her shoulders, but there was something wrong, something terribly, terribly wrong, and it pulled at her as she made her way to the capital city._

_Her parents sent for her as soon as her foot stepped down in the entrance hall, and, the feeling of dread growing, she hurried to her mother’s study._

_When they told her that her beloved grandmother had died, her mind rebelled even as her grief hit her.  Her mother comforted her, her father fought back his own tears.  The Princess let herself cry, but she was comforted by a voice in her head, her grandmother’s voice, who reminded her of the long ago lessons on change._

_There was more bad news.  The violence that surrounded their pocket in the universe came to their frontiers, and the Princess agreed to take more responsibility.  She knew her grandmother’s cloak would protect her._

 

 

She could have campaigned harder, of course. Those opposing her threw unfair accusations at her, that she was too young, too naive, too inexperienced, too much of a spoiled _princess_ to serve as Viceroy.  

But the eighteen year old Leia Organa would point to her record as her father’s aide, her education, and her humanitarian efforts. Her people listened to her, trusted her, and elected her to the Galactic Senate.  

Though she grew up between her mother’s Alderaan court and the spaces her father occupied in the Senate, she was young (the youngest Senator ever elected) she was naive and inexperienced.  She routinely clashed with Emperor Palpatine, often leading the small charges dissenting against his proposed policies.  

She lost more battles than she won on the Galactic Senate floor.  But she kept fighting for the rights of the Galaxy, against the restrictive and expansive grip of the Emperor.  Her personal encounters with Palpatine and his lapdog, Lord Vader, left her cold, but she would never, ever back down.  

And they could not stop her humanitarian work.  

Nor her spying, the real reason she was determined to take her father’s role as Viceroy when he retired from the Senate.  

If the Rebel Alliance kept “stealing” the supplies in her humanitarian outreach, well, she was a woman, a delicate princess, there was nothing she could have done to stop it.  

She sent Wedge on missions, and after he officially “defected” to the Rebellion that she could not yet publically join, she would send Winter out. Winter, who was slow to anger and quick to laugh, had proved to be a god-send, politically.  She rarely aroused suspicion, and if she did, she was so dainty and demure that no accusation ever stuck.  She certainly smoothed a lot of relationships for her more fiery sister.  

The news reported only galas that Leia went to, the clothes that she wore (as if endless variations of white dresses could interest anyone). She was written off as flakey, unserious, even one who liked to party, completely ignoring her legislative record, her humanitarian work.

In any other circumstance, Leia might have cared. It worked in her favor that everyone around her underestimated her work, her commitment, her chances.  If her enemies didn’t take her work seriously, it meant she was effective as a spy, in the right places at the right times to overhear the right conversations.  The series of mysterious, handsome people that paraded through her apartments were taken as paramours, not informants.  She was branded easy, even a slut in some circles.  

So much the better for her spy network.  

Being accused of being a pushover wasn’t always easy, but Leia would shift her focus on her next mission, or Winter’s, or even Wedge's (when she received intelligence of Rogue Squadron).  

She usually didn’t go on missions herself (though she was battle-trained and a master of military strategy), but when the Battle of Scarif began, she found herself caught up in the action. When the Death Star plans were beamed to the _Tantive IV_ , she knew she had to hand deliver them to her father. 

But first, she would complete her first mission: her father had urged her to go to Tatooine, and Leia was thrilled that she would finally meet the mysterious General Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had always been a mythic figure to Leia, and she could hardly believe her luck. That she had the Death Star plans? So much the better. 

 

 

_The Princess led a small band to the frontlines, their mission was not to engage the enemy directly, but rather to antagonize, to gather reconnaissance, to recruit more for their cause.  It was not an easy mission, and her parents almost didn’t let her go. The Queen’s advisors did not think they will return alive.  But the Princess was determined to go, to take action._

_One by one, her band was picked off._

_When her most loyal bodyguard was struck down, the Princess hurled her silver knife toward his killer’s heart.  Knowing she could not help him further, she fled.  She cursed herself for throwing her only weapon, but it was too late to do anything about it.  Her feet were fast, and she seemed to slip through the enemy, protected by the magic of her grandmother’s cloak. It was raining, which covered her scent, and soon, she came to a village.  Hating to put anyone else in danger, but knowing that she could not go any farther tonight, she knocked softly at door to a dwelling where a light still burned._

_The door opened and she faced a young man, about her own age, whom her heart told her she could trust.  He took one look at her and opened the door wider for her to slip through._

_“Princess,” he started and she cut him off._

_“Hush. There will be warriors looking for me,” she said. “May I hide here?”_

_“Of course,” he said.  He dowsed the light._

_Though she was not cold or even the least bit damp, she huddled closer to the fire, removing her cloak.  He took it from her and hung it up; she asked his name.  He wasn’t expecting an explanation, but he got it anyway and immediately joined her cause._

_“I make swords,” he said._

_“Do you have a dagger? Mine was lost.”_

_He dug through his workroom and returned with a dull steel dirk that she set about sharpening._

_“If we had more time, I would make you a new one.”_

_“Don’t worry, this will do.”_

_They stayed through the day and were about to leave at dusk when the search party came for her._

_“Run,” her new Champion said. “They will search, but they mustn’t find you.”_

_So she fled again, into a dark dark forest with tall tall trees._

_Her pearl felt warm against her chest, so she pulled it from her tunic to discover that it seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight.  She held her memories of the mermaid in her heart as she made her way through the forest, relying on the snatches of the Stars he could see between the thick canopy of branches to guide her steps._

_After a few hours, she had slowed, reasonably sure that the Champion was able to put them on a false trail._

_It was then she discovered a snarling wolf.  He was gray and his fur matted, and his hind quarter had been grazed by an unknown weapon._

_‘Princess, what brings you here?’ The wolf growled at her._

_‘I am fleeing my enemies, and have been all evening.  Who did this to you?’_

_‘Your enemies.’_

_‘Does that make us allies?” she wondered._

_‘Why would you seek to ally yourself with a wolf?’_

_The Princess shrugged.  ‘You are hurt. May I see to your wound?’_

_He didn’t oppose to her and she approached him and accessed the damage without touching him._

_‘It does not look so bad. If you like, I can bind your wound.’_

_‘If you must.’_

_She took the hem of her cloak and ripped a long strip from the bottom hem.  As gingerly as she could, she wrapped his wound._

_The wolf stood up then.  The Princess knew he was too proud to say if it had helped.  But the cloak was magic, and she trusted it, even if he didn’t._

_‘I must keep moving, but I am glad to have met you.  Where were these warriors, so I might avoid them?’_

_‘They are south and west of here, you must move fast, Princess.’_

_‘I will,’ she said._

_The wolf sighed, annoyed.  ‘Not fast enough. And your cloak doesn’t hide you as well now. I suppose we are responsible for each other.’_

_‘My parents taught me a Princess’ life is one of service to all in my mother’s Queendom; you owe me nothing.’_

_‘Enough. My wound feels better, now do you want a ride or not?’ He was snarling again._

_‘Very well, but you must stop before you are tired.’_

_She sat lightly on his back as he charged through the woods. The Princess kept her head down near the wolf’s ear, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, but her grip was firm enough that he could not throw her off._

_The wolf brought her to the edge of the capital city._

_‘I must leave you here, Princess.’_

_She tightened her embrace around his neck for a brief moment, and then slid off his back.  ‘Thank you, and should you ever find yourself in need...’_

_He allowed himself to nuzzle her side for a moment, then he was off into the dawn._

_She hurried through the streets of her city, pulling the remains of her cloak around her. It felt like the magic her grandmother had given her was leaking out the bottom, but she still had her mermaid’s tear pearl._

_This thought urged her forward, urged her home._

_The Princess should have been allowed to think about the sweets she would soon be enjoying, or the hot bath, or the lovely flowers in the garden, or her parents’ embrace... but instead, her mind was on how empty the capital felt. There wasn’t a soul in the streets._

_She came to the gates of her castle, locked and barred against her.  She rattled at them, calling out of her parents, her maid, the gardners, the cook...._

_‘No one is coming.’_

_The Princess turned on her heel to face… a being in a mask._

_‘Who are you?’ she demanded._

_‘A Trickster,’ it replied. The voice was neither high nor low, nothing to betray the species, age, gender or anything about the speaker._

_‘And what does a Trickster want with my family?’_

_The mask betrayed no emotion whatsoever, but when it spoke again, it had a laugh in its voice._

_‘I have watched you for a long time, Princess. You are clever and wise, and a danger to our plans.’_

_‘What plans?’_

_‘Why, to bring order to the Galaxy, of course.’_

_‘There is an order to the Galaxy,’ said the Princess._

_The Trickster said with a sneer, ‘Disorder, you mean. Cursed to be ruled by common people. You, a Princess, must thirst for more power. Power to set your planet within your control.’_

_‘No,’ she said.  ‘My job is to serve my people. And Change is the order of the universe. Everything bows to that.’_

_‘No,’ said the Trickster. ‘That is what weak fools believe.’_

_‘You cannot stop the sun from setting. You cannot control the patterns of the weather. Things must die, or there would never be birth.’_

_The Trickster laughed.  ‘Shall I kill your planet, then? To see how you like change? Or you. Or shall I start with your parents?’_

_The Princess had had enough of this. Quick as a flash, she pulled her newly sharpened dagger and hurled it at this target. It knocked it away, easily._

_‘Nice try, Princess.’_

_‘I thought I could teach you of change.’_

_It clapped its hands twice, and she found herself on the ground.  It clapped its hands again, and her cloak seemed to be ripped from her._

_She stood again.  It went to clap its hands again.  This time, the pearl that she wore around her neck glowed and seemed to force the Trickster back._

_‘Your family has changed,’ it warned.  ‘And soon you will join them.’_

_Panic struck her heart. ‘What have you done to them?!’_

_The Trickster did not answer, it clapped its hand again. This time whatever magic he used collided with the pearl, which seemed to shatter.  The force of it pushed her into the dirt again._

_She heard the Trickster’s laughter as it disappeared._

_She was left in the dust, with nothing._

 

 

Leia couldn’t believe her terrible luck.  She couldn’t think of the plans, she couldn't think of General Kenobi, she couldn’t think of her Hope. Her crew was killed before her. She was tortured within an inch of... she would have said life but this wasn’t life as she knew it, not with Darth Vader trying to force his way into her mind every waking moment.  She locked down the dungeon in her mind and buried it as deeply as she could. Her immunity to truth serums was playing its part. Try as he might, Vader hadn’t broken her yet.  

But she couldn’t allow herself to hope right now. It was a weapon that could be used against her.  

She was snarling and fighting when Vader brought her to the bridge, and Leia was still learning what she could about this superstation.  

Then Tarkin and a verbal sparring match, threats, and then.

Nothing.

She felt the pressure of the explosion in her ears, the sudden screams of her people, and then nothing, nothing, nothing.  

But the taste of ash in her mouth.  

Vader led her back to her cell where Leia stared at the ceiling, unseeing and empty.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, when she started dreaming, or even if this could be called a dream.  She was in a clean dress and a heavy cloak, but she was struggling with a sense of loss and a someone in a mask was mocking her strength, trying to steal it.  The images she was seeing didn’t make sense; a wolf and a pearl and a boy with sandy hair and blue eyes, the sensation of speeding through the desert, and then her father’s voice, saying something, and finally the sound of her cell door opening....  

 

 

_The Princess remembered her name._

_She stood up again, determined to save what she could._

 


End file.
